Resurrection by Count Leo Tolstoy

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The policemen who carried the corpse were followed by a policeofficer and a medical assistant. The medical assistant came up tothe body and touched the freckled hand, already growing cold,which, though still soft, was deadly pale. He held it for amoment, and then let it go. It fell lifelessly on the stomach ofthe dead man.

"He's ready," said the medical assistant, but, evidently to bequite in order, he undid the wet, brown shirt, and tossing backthe curls from his ear, put it to the yellowish, broad, immovablechest of the convict. All were silent. The medical assistantraised himself again, shook his head, and touched with hisfingers first one and then the other lid over the open, fixedblue eyes.

"I'm not frightened, I'm not frightened." The madman keptrepeating these words, and spitting in the direction of themedical assistant.

"Well?" asked the police officer.

"Well! He must he put into the mortuary."

"Are you sure? Mind," said the police officer.

"It's time I should know," said the medical assistant, drawingthe shirt over the body's chest. "However, I will send forMathew Ivanovitch. Let him have a look. Petrov, call him," andthe medical assistant stepped away from the body.

"Take him to the mortuary," said the police officer. "And thenyou must come into the office and sign," he added to the convoysoldier, who had not left the convict for a moment.

"Yes, sir," said the soldier.

The policemen lifted the body and carried it down again.Nekhludoff wished to follow, but the madman kept him back.

"You are not in the plot! Well, then, give me a cigarette," hesaid. Nekhludoff got out his cigarette case and gave him one.

The madman, quickly moving his brows all the time, began relatinghow they tormented him by thought suggestion.

"Why, they are all against me, and torment and torture me throughtheir mediums."

"I beg your pardon," said Nekhludoff, and without listening anyfurther he left the room and went out into the yard, wishing toknow where the body would be put.

The policemen with their burden had already crossed the yard, andwere coming to the door of a cellar. Nekhludoff wished to go upto them, but the police officer stopped him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Then go away."

Nekhludoff obeyed, and went back to his isvostchik, who wasdozing. He awoke him, and they drove back towards the railwaystation.

They had not made a hundred steps when they met a cartaccompanied by a convoy soldier with a gun. On the cart layanother convict, who was already dead. The convict lay on hisback in the cart, his shaved head, from which the pancake-shapedcap had slid over the black-bearded face down to the nose,shaking and thumping at every jolt. The driver, in his heavyboots, walked by the side of the cart, holding the reins; apoliceman followed on foot. Nekhludoff touched his isvostchik'sshoulder.

"Just look what they are doing," said the isvostchik, stoppinghis horse.

Nekhludoff got down and, following the cart, again passed thesentinel and entered the gate of the police station. By this timethe firemen had finished washing the cart, and a tall, bony man,the chief of the fire brigade, with a coloured band round hiscap, stood in their place, and, with his hands in his pockets,was severely looking at a fat-necked, well-fed, bay stallion thatwas being led up and down before him by a fireman. The stallionwas lame on one of his fore feet, and the chief of the firemenwas angrily saying something to a veterinary who stood by.

The police officer was also present. When he saw the cart he wentup to the convoy soldier.

"Where did you bring him from?" he asked, shaking his headdisapprovingly.

"From the Gorbatovskaya," answered the policeman.

"A prisoner?" asked the chief of the fire brigade.

"Yes. It's the second to-day."

"Well, I must say they've got some queer arrangements. Though ofcourse it's a broiling day," said the chief of the fire brigade;then, turning to the fireman who was leading the lame stallion,he shouted: "Put him into the corner stall. And as to you, youhound, I'll teach you how to cripple horses which are worth morethan you are, you scoundrel."

The dead man was taken from the cart by the policemen just in thesame way as the first had been, and carried upstairs into thehospital. Nekhludoff followed them as if he were hypnotised.

"What do you want?" asked one of the policemen. But Nekhludoffdid not answer, and followed where the body was being carried.The madman, sitting on a bed, was smoking greedily the cigaretteNekhludoff had given him.

"Ah, you've come back," he said, and laughed. When he saw thebody he made a face, and said, "Again! I am sick of it. I am nota boy, am I, eh?" and he turned to Nekhludoff with a questioningsmile.

Nekhludoff was looking at the dead man, whose face, which hadbeen hidden by his cap, was now visible. This convict was ashandsome in face and body as the other was hideous. He was a manin the full bloom of life. Notwithstanding that he was disfiguredby the half of his head being shaved, the straight, rather lowforehead, raised a bit over the black, lifeless eyes, was veryfine, and so was the nose above the thin, black moustaches. Therewas a smile on the lips that were already growing blue, a smallbeard outlined the lower part of the face, and on the shaved sideof the head a firm, well-shaped car was visible.

One could see what possibilities of a higher life had beendestroyed in this man. The fine bones of his hands and shackledfeet, the strong muscles of all his well-proportioned limbs,showed what a beautiful, strong, agile human animal this hadbeen. As an animal merely he had been a far more perfect one ofhis kind than the bay stallion, about the laming of which thefireman was so angry.

Yet he had been done to death, and no one was sorry for him as aman, nor was any one sorry that so fine a working animal hadperished. The only feeling evinced was that of annoyance becauseof the bother caused by the necessity of getting this body,threatening putrefaction, out of the way. The doctor and hisassistant entered the hospital, accompanied by the inspector ofthe police station. The doctor was a thick-set man, dressed inpongee silk coat and trousers of the same material, closelyfitting his muscular thighs. The inspector was a little fatfellow, with a red face, round as a ball, which he made stillbroader by a habit he had of filling his cheeks with air, andslowly letting it out again. The doctor sat down on the bed bythe side of the dead man, and touched the hands in the same wayas his assistant had done, put his ear to the heart, rose, andpulled his trousers straight. "Could not be more dead," he said.

The inspector filled his mouth with air and slowly blew it outagain.

"Which prison is he from?" he asked the convoy soldier.

The soldier told him, and reminded him of the chains on the deadman's feet.

"I'll have them taken off; we have got a smith about, the Lord bethanked," said the inspector, and blew up his cheeks again; hewent towards the door, slowly letting out the air.

"Why has this happened?" Nekhludoff asked the doctor.

The doctor looked at him through his spectacles.

"Why has what happened? Why they die of sunstroke, you mean? Thisis why: They sit all through the winter without exercise andwithout light, and suddenly they are taken out into the sunshine,and on a day like this, and they march in a crowd so that theyget no air, and sunstroke is the result."

"Then why are they sent out?"

"Oh, as to that, go and ask those who send them. But may I askwho are you?"

"I am a stranger."

"Ah, well, good-afternoon; I have no time." The doctor was vexed;he gave his trousers a downward pull, and went towards the bedsof the sick.

"Well, how are you getting on?" he asked the pale man with thecrooked mouth and bandaged neck.

Meanwhile the madman sat on a bed, and having finished hiscigarette, kept spitting in the direction of the doctor.

Nekhludoff went down into the yard and out of the gate past thefiremen's horses and the hens and the sentinel in his brasshelmet, and got into the trap, the driver of which had againfallen asleep.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

THE CONVICT TRAIN.

When Nekhludoff came to the station, the prisoners were allseated in railway carriages with grated windows. Several persons,come to see them off, stood on the platform, but were not allowedto come up to the carriages.

The convoy was much troubled that day. On the way from the prisonto the station, besides the two Nekhludoff had seen, three otherprisoners had fallen and died of sunstroke. One was taken to thenearest police station like the first two, and the other two diedat the railway station. [In Moscow, in the beginning of the eighthdecade of this century, five convicts died of sunstroke in oneday on their way from the Boutyrki prison to the Nijni railwaystation.] The convoy men were not troubled because five men whomight have been alive died while in their charge. This did nottrouble them, but they were concerned lest anything that the lawrequired in such cases should be omitted. To convey the bodies tothe places appointed, to deliver up their papers, to take themoff the lists of those to be conveyed to Nijni--all this was verytroublesome, especially on so hot a day.

It was this that occupied the convoy men, and before it could allbe accomplished Nekhludoff and the others who asked for leave togo up to the carriages were not allowed to do so. Nekhludoff,however, was soon allowed to go up, because he tipped the convoysergeant. The sergeant let Nekhludoff pass, but asked him to bequick and get his talk over before any of the authoritiesnoticed. There were 15 carriages in all, and except one carriagefor the officials, they were full of prisoners. As Nekhludoffpassed the carriages he listened to what was going on in them. Inall the carriages was heard the clanging of chains, the sound ofbustle, mixed with loud and senseless language, but not a wordwas being said about their dead fellow-prisoners. The talk wasall about sacks, drinking water, and the choice of seats.

Looking into one of the carriages, Nekhludoff saw convoy soldierstaking the manacles off the hands of the prisoners. The prisonersheld out their arms, and one of the soldiers unlocked themanacles with a key and took them off; the other collected them.

After he had passed all the other carriages, Nekhludoff came upto the women's carriages. From the second of these he heard awoman's groans: "Oh, oh, oh! O God! Oh, oh! O God!"

Nekhludoff passed this carriage and went up to a window of thethird carriage, which a soldier pointed out to him. When heapproached his face to the window, he felt the hot air, filledwith the smell of perspiration, coming out of it, and hearddistinctly the shrill sound of women's voices. All the seats werefilled with red, perspiring, loudly-talking women, dressed inprison cloaks and white jackets. Nekhludoff's face at the windowattracted their attention. Those nearest ceased talking and drewcloser. Maslova, in her white jacket and her head uncovered, satby the opposite window. The white-skinned, smiling Theodosia sata little nearer. When she recognised Nekhludoff, she nudgedMaslova and pointed to the window. Maslova rose hurriedly, threwher kerchief over her black hair, and with a smile on her hot,red face came up to the window and took hold of one of the bars.

"Well, it is hot," she said, with a glad smile.

"Did you get the things?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Is there anything more you want?" asked Nekhludoff, while theair came out of the hot carriage as out of an oven.

"I want nothing, thank you."

"If we could get a drink?" said Theodosia.

"Yes, if we could get a drink," repeated Maslova.

"Why, have you not got any water?"

"They put some in, but it is all gone."

"Directly, I will ask one of the convoy men. Now we shall not seeeach other till we get to Nijni."

"Why? Are you going?" said Maslova, as if she did not know it,and looked joyfully at Nekhludoff.

"I am going by the next train."

Maslova said nothing, but only sighed deeply.

"Is it true, sir, that 12 convicts have been done to death?" saida severe-looking old prisoner with a deep voice like a man's.

It was Korableva.

"I did not hear of 12; I have seen two," said Nekhludoff.

"They say there were 12 they killed. And will nothing be done tothem? Only think! The fiends!"

"And have none of the women fallen ill?" Nekhludoff asked.

"Women are stronger," said another of the prisoners--a shortlittle woman, and laughed; "only there's one that has taken itinto her head to be delivered. There she goes," she said,pointing to the next carriage, whence proceeded the groans.

"You ask if we want anything," said Maslova, trying to keep thesmile of joy from her lips; "could not this woman be left behind.suffering as she is? There, now, if you would tell theauthorities."

"Yes, I will."

"And one thing more; could she not see her husband, Taras?" sheadded, pointing with her eyes to the smiling Theodosia.

"He is going with you, is he not?"

"Sir, you must not talk," said a convoy sergeant, not the one whohad let Nekhludoff come up. Nekhludoff left the carriage and wentin search of an official to whom he might speak for the woman intravail and about Taras, but could not find him, nor get ananswer from any of the convoy for a long time. They were all in abustle; some were leading a prisoner somewhere or other, othersrunning to get themselves provisions, some were placing theirthings in the carriages or attending on a lady who was going toaccompany the convoy officer, and they answered Nekhludoff'squestions unwillingly. Nekhludoff found the convoy officer onlyafter the second bell had been rung. The officer with his shortarm was wiping the moustaches that covered his mouth andshrugging his shoulders, reproving the corporal for something orother.

"What is it you want?" he asked Nekhludoff.

"You've got a woman there who is being confined, so I thoughtbest--"

"Well, let her be confined; we shall see later on," and brisklyswinging his short arms, he ran up to his carriage. At the momentthe guard passed with a whistle in his hand, and from the peopleon the platform and from the women's carriages there arose asound of weeping and words of prayer.

Nekhludoff stood on the platform by the side of Taras, and lookedhow, one after the other, the carriages glided past him, with theshaved heads of the men at the grated windows. Then the first ofthe women's carriages came up, with women's heads at the windows,some covered with kerchiefs and some uncovered, then the second,whence proceeded the same groans, then the carriage where Maslovawas. She stood with the others at the window, and looked atNekhludoff with a pathetic smile.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

BROTHER AND SISTER.

There were still two hours before the passenger train by whichNekhludoff was going would start. He had thought of using thisinterval to see his sister again; but after the impressions ofthe morning he felt much excited and so done up that, sittingdown on a sofa in the first-class refreshment-room, he suddenlygrew so drowsy that he turned over on to his side, and, layinghis face on his hand, fell asleep at once. A waiter in a dresscoat with a napkin in his hand woke him.

"Sir, sir, are you not Prince Nekhludoff? There's a lady lookingfor you."

Nekhludoff started up and recollected where he was and all thathad happened in the morning.

He saw in his imagination the procession of prisoners, the deadbodies, the railway carriages with barred windows, and the womenlocked up in them, one of whom was groaning in travail with noone to help her, and another who was pathetically smiling at himthrough the bars.

The reality before his eyes was very different, i.e., a tablewith vases, candlesticks and crockery, and agile waiters movinground the table, and in the background a cupboard and a counterladen with fruit and bottles, behind it a barman, and in frontthe backs of passengers who had come up for refreshments. WhenNekhludoff had risen and sat gradually collecting his thoughts,he noticed that everybody in the room was inquisitively lookingat something that was passing by the open doors.

He also looked, and saw a group of people carrying a chair onwhich sat a lady whose head was wrapped in a kind of airy fabric.

Nekhludoff thought he knew the footman who was supporting thechair in front. And also the man behind, and a doorkeeper withgold cord on his cap, seemed familiar. A lady's maid with afringe and an apron, who was carrying a parcel, a parasol, andsomething round in a leather case, was walking behind the chair.Then came Prince Korchagin, with his thick lips, apoplectic neck,and a travelling cap on his head; behind him Missy, her cousinMisha, and an acquaintance of Nekhludoff's--the long-neckeddiplomat Osten, with his protruding Adam's apple and hisunvarying merry mood and expression. He was saying something veryemphatically, though jokingly, to the smiling Missy. TheKorchagins were moving from their estate near the city to theestate of the Princess's sister on the Nijni railway. Theprocession--the men carrying the chair, the maid, and thedoctor--vanished into the ladies' waiting-room, evoking a feelingof curiosity and respect in the onlookers. But the old Princeremained and sat down at the table, called a waiter, and orderedfood and drink. Missy and Osten also remained in therefreshment-room and were about to sit down, when they saw anacquaintance in the doorway, and went up to her. It was NathalieRogozhinsky. Nathalie came into the refreshment-room accompaniedby Agraphena Petrovna, and both looked round the room. Nathalienoticed at one and the same moment both her brother and Missy.She first went up to Missy, only nodding to her brother; but,having kissed her, at once turned to him.

"At last I have found you," she said. Nekhludoff rose to greetMissy, Misha, and Osten, and to say a few words to them. Missytold him about their house in the country having been burnt down,which necessitated their moving to her aunt's. Osten beganrelating a funny story about a fire. Nekhludoff paid noattention, and turned to his sister.

"How glad I am that you have come."

"I have been here a long time," she said. "Agraphena Petrovna iswith me." And she pointed to Agraphena Petrovna, who, in awaterproof and with a bonnet on her head, stood some way off, andbowed to him with kindly dignity and some confusion, not wishingto intrude.

"We looked for you everywhere."

"And I had fallen asleep here. How glad I am that you have come,"repeated Nekhludoff. "I had begun to write to you."

"Really?" she said, looking frightened. "What about?"

Missy and the gentleman, noticing that an intimate conversationwas about to commence between the brother and sister, went away.Nekhludoff and his sister sat down by the window on avelvet-covered sofa, on which lay a plaid, a box, and a few otherthings.

"Yesterday, after I left you, I felt inclined to return andexpress my regret, but I did not know how he would take it," saidNekhludoff. "I spoke hastily to your husband, and this tormentedme."

"I knew," said his sister, "that you did not mean to. Oh, youknow!" and the tears came to her eyes, and she touched his hand.The sentence was not clear, but he understood it perfectly, andwas touched by what it expressed. Her words meant that, besidesthe love for her husband which held her in its sway, she prizedand considered important the love she had for him, her brother,and that every misunderstanding between them caused her deepsuffering.

"Thank you, thank you. Oh! what I have seen to-day!" he said,suddenly recalling the second of the dead convicts. "Twoprisoners have been done to death."

"Done to death? How?"

"Yes, done to death. They led them in this heat, and two died ofsunstroke."

"Impossible! What, to-day? just now?"

"Yes, just now. I have seen their bodies."

"But why done to death? Who killed them?" asked Nathalie.

"They who forced them to go killed them," said Nekhludoff, withirritation, feeling that she looked at this, too, with herhusband's eyes.

"Oh, Lord!" said Agraphena Petrovna, who had come up to them.

"Yes, we have not the slightest idea of what is being done tothese unfortunate beings. But it ought to be known," addedNekhludoff, and looked at old Korchagin, who sat with a napkintied round him and a bottle before him, and who looked round atNekhludoff.

"Nekhludoff," he called out, "won't you join me and take somerefreshment? It is excellent before a journey."

Nekhludoff refused, and turned away.

"But what are you going to do?" Nathalie continued.

"What I can. I don't know, but I feel I must do something. And Ishall do what I am able to."

"Yes, I understand. And how about them?" she continued, with asmile and a look towards Korchagin. "Is it possible that it isall over?"

"Completely, and I think without any regret on either side."

"It is a pity. I am sorry. I am fond of her. However, it's allright. But why do you wish to bind yourself?" she added shyly."Why are you going?"

"I go because I must," answered Nekhludoff, seriously and dryly,as if wishing to stop this conversation. But he felt ashamed ofhis coldness towards his sister at once. "Why not tell her all Iam thinking?" he thought, "and let Agraphena Petrovna also hearit," he thought, with a look at the old servant, whose presencemade the wish to repeat his decision to his sister even stronger.

"You mean my intention to marry Katusha? Well, you see, I made upmy mind to do it, but she refuses definitely and firmly," hesaid, and his voice shook, as it always did when he spoke of it."She does not wish to accept my sacrifice, but is herselfsacrificing what in her position means much, and I cannot acceptthis sacrifice, if it is only a momentary impulse. And so I amgoing with her, and shall be where she is, and shall try tolighten her fate as much as I can."

Nathalie said nothing. Agraphena Petrovna looked at her with aquestioning look, and shook her head. At this moment the formerprocession issued from the ladies' room. The same handsomefootman (Philip). and the doorkeeper were carrying the PrincessKorchagin. She stopped the men who were carrying her, andmotioned to Nekhludoff to approach, and, with a pitiful,languishing air, she extended her white, ringed hand, expectingthe firm pressure of his hand with a sense of horror.

"Epouvantable!" she said, meaning the heat. "I cannot stand it!Ce climat me tue!" And, after a short talk about the horrors ofthe Russian climate, she gave the men a sign to go on.

"Be sure and come," she added, turning her long face towardsNekhludoff as she was borne away.

The procession with the Princess turned to the right towards thefirst-class carriages. Nekhludoff, with the porter who wascarrying his things, and Taras with his bag, turned to the left.

"This is my companion," said Nekhludoff to his sister, pointingto Taras, whose story he had told her before.

"Surely not third class?" said Nathalie, when Nekhludoff stoppedin front of a third-class carriage, and Taras and the porter withthe things went in.

"Yes; it is more convenient for me to be with Taras," he said."One thing more," he added; "up to now I have not given theKousminski land to the peasants; so that, in case of my death,your children will inherit it."

"Dmitri, don't!" said Nathalie.

"If I do give it away, all I can say is that the rest will betheirs, as it is not likely I shall marry; and if I do marry Ishall have no children, so that--"

"Dmitri, don't talk like that!" said Nathalie. And yet Nekhludoffnoticed that she was glad to hear him say it.

Higher up, by the side of a first-class carriage, there stood agroup of people still looking at the carriage into which thePrincess Korchagin had been carried. Most of the passengers werealready seated. Some of the late comers hurriedly clattered alongthe boards of the platform, the guard was closing the doors andasking the passengers to get in and those who were seeing themoff to come out.

Nekhludoff entered the hot, smelling carriage, but at oncestepped out again on to the small platform at the back of thecarriage. Nathalie stood opposite the carriage, with herfashionable bonnet and cape, by the side of Agraphena Petrovna,and was evidently trying to find something to say.

She could not even say ecrivez, because they had long ago laughedat this word, habitually spoken by those about to part. The shortconversation about money matters had in a moment destroyed thetender brotherly and sisterly feelings that had taken hold ofthem. They felt estranged, so that Nathalie was glad when thetrain moved; and she could only say, nodding her head with a sadand tender look, "Goodbye, good-bye, Dmitri." But as soon as thecarriage had passed her she thought of how she should repeat herconversation with her brother to her husband, and her face becameserious and troubled.

Nekhludoff, too, though he had nothing but the kindest feelingsfor his sister, and had hidden nothing from her, now feltdepressed and uncomfortable with her, and was glad to part. Hefelt that the Nathalie who was once so near to him no longerexisted, and in her place was only a slave of that hairy,unpleasant husband, who was so foreign to him. He saw it clearlywhen her face lit up with peculiar animation as he spoke of whatwould peculiarly interest her husband, i.e., the giving up of theland to the peasants and the inheritance.

And this made him sad.

CHAPTER XL.

THE FUNDAMENTAL LAW OF HUMAN LIFE.

The heat in the large third-class carriage, which had beenstanding in the burning sun all day, was so great that Nekhludoffdid not go in, but stopped on the little platform behind thecarriage which formed a passage to the next one. But there wasnot a breath of fresh air here either, and Nekhludoff breathedfreely only when the train had passed the buildings and thedraught blew across the platform.

"Yes, killed," he repeated to himself, the words he had used tohis sister. And in his imagination in the midst of all otherimpressions there arose with wonderful clearness the beautifulface of the second dead convict, with the smile of the lips, thesevere expression of the brows, and the small, firm ear below theshaved bluish skull.

And what seemed terrible was that he had been murdered, and noone knew who had murdered him. Yet he had been murdered. He wasled out like all the rest of the prisoners by Maslennikoff'sorders. Maslennikoff had probably given the order in the usualmanner, had signed with his stupid flourish the paper with theprinted heading, and most certainly would not consider himselfguilty. Still less would the careful doctor who examined theconvicts consider himself guilty. He had performed his dutyaccurately, and had separated the weak. How could he haveforeseen this terrible heat, or the fact that they would start solate in the day and in such crowds? The prison inspector? But theinspector had only carried into execution the order that on agiven day a certain number of exiles and convicts--men andwomen--had to be sent off. The convoy officer could not be guiltyeither, for his business was to receive a certain number ofpersons in a certain place, and to deliver up the same number.He conducted them in the usual manner, and could not foresee thattwo such strong men as those Nekhludoff saw would not be able tostand it and would die. No one is guilty, and yet the men havebeen murdered by these people who are not guilty of their murder.

"All this comes," Nekhludoff thought, "from the fact that allthese people, governors, inspectors, police officers, and men,consider that there are circumstances in which human relationsare not necessary between human beings. All these men,Maslennikoff, and the inspector, and the convoy officer, if theywere not _governor, inspector, officer,_ would have consideredtwenty times before sending people in such heat in such amass--would have stopped twenty times on the way, and, seeingthat a man was growing weak, gasping for breath, would have ledhim into the shade, would have given him water and let him rest,and if an accident had still occurred they would have expressedpity. But they not only did not do it, but hindered others fromdoing it, because they considered not men and their duty towardsthem but only the office they themselves filled, and held whatthat office demanded of them to be above human relations. That'swhat it is," Nekhludoff went on in his thoughts. "If oneacknowledges but for a single hour that anything can be moreimportant than love for one's fellowmen, even in some oneexceptional case, any crime can be committed without a feeling ofguilt."

Nekhludoff was so engrossed by his thoughts that he did notnotice how the weather changed. The sun was covered over by alow-hanging, ragged cloud. A compact, light grey cloud wasrapidly coming from the west, and was already falling in heavy,driving rain on the fields and woods far in the distance.Moisture, coming from the cloud, mixed with the air. Now and thenthe cloud was rent by flashes of lightning, and peals of thundermingled more and more often with the rattling of the train. Thecloud came nearer and nearer, the rain-drops driven by the windbegan to spot the platform and Nekhludoff's coat; and he steppedto the other side of the little platform, and, inhaling thefresh, moist air--filled with the smell of corn and wet earththat had long been waiting for rain--he stood looking at thegardens, the woods, the yellow rye fields, the green oatfields,the dark-green strips of potatoes in bloom, that glided past.Everything looked as if covered over with varnish--the greenturned greener, the yellow yellower, the black blacker.

"More! more!" said Nekhludoff, gladdened by the sight of gardensand fields revived by the beneficent shower. The shower did notlast long. Part of the cloud had come down in rain, part passedover, and the last fine drops fell straight on to the earth. Thesun reappeared, everything began to glisten, and in the east--notvery high above the horizon--appeared a bright rainbow, with theviolet tint very distinct and broken only at one end.

"Why, what was I thinking about?" Nekhludoff asked himself whenall these changes in nature were over, and the train ran into acutting between two high banks.

"Oh! I was thinking that all those people (inspector, convoymen--all those in the service) are for the greater part kindpeople--cruel only because they are serving." He recalledMaslennikoff's indifference when he told him about what was beingdone in the prison, the inspector's severity, the cruelty of theconvoy officer when he refused places on the carts to those whoasked for them, and paid no attention to the fact that there wasa woman in travail in the train. All these people were evidentlyinvulnerable and impregnable to the simplest feelings ofcompassion only because they held offices. "As officials theywere impermeable to the feelings of humanity, as this pavedground is impermeable to the rain." Thus thought Nekhludoff as helooked at the railway embankment paved with stones of differentcolours, down which the water was running in streams instead ofsoaking into the earth. "Perhaps it is necessary to pave thebanks with stones, but it is sad to look at the ground, whichmight be yielding corn, grass, bushes, or trees in the same wayas the ground visible up there is doing--deprived of vegetation,and so it is with men," thought Nekhludoff. "Perhaps thesegovernors, inspectors, policemen, are needed, but it is terribleto see men deprived of the chief human attribute, that of loveand sympathy for one another. The thing is," he continued, "thatthese people consider lawful what is not lawful, and do notconsider the eternal, immutable law, written in the hearts of menby God, as law. That is why I feel so depressed when I am withthese people. I am simply afraid of them, and really they areterrible, more terrible than robbers. A robber might, after all,feel pity, but they can feel no pity, they are inured againstpity as these stones are against vegetation. That is what makesthem terrible. It is said that the Pougatcheffs, the Razins[leaders of rebellions in Russia: Stonka Razin in the 17th andPougatcheff in the 18th century] are terrible. These are athousand times more terrible," he continued, in his thoughts. "Ifa psychological problem were set to find means of making men ofour time--Christian, humane, simple, kind people--perform themost horrible crimes without feeling guilty, only one solutioncould be devised: to go on doing what is being done. It is onlynecessary that these people should he governors, inspectors,policemen; that they should be fully convinced that there is akind of business, called government service, which allows men totreat other men as things, without human brotherly relations withthem, and also that these people should be so linked together bythis government service that the responsibility for the resultsof their actions should not fall on any one of them separately.Without these conditions, the terrible acts I witnessed to-daywould be impossible in our times. It all lies in the fact thatmen think there are circumstances in which one may deal withhuman beings without love; and there are no such circumstances.One may deal with things without love. One may cut down trees,make bricks, hammer iron without love; but you cannot deal withmen without it, just as one cannot deal with bees without beingcareful. If you deal carelessly with bees you will injure them,and will yourself be injured. And so with men. It cannot beotherwise, because natural love is the fundamental law of humanlife. It is true that a man cannot force another to love him, ashe can force him to work for him; but it does not follow that aman may deal with men without love, especially to demand anythingfrom them. If you feel no love, sit still," Nekhludoff thought;"occupy yourself with things, with yourself, with anything youlike, only not with men. You can only eat without injuringyourself when you feel inclined to eat, so you can only deal withmen usefully when you love. Only let yourself deal with a manwithout love, as I did yesterday with my brother-in-law, andthere are no limits to the suffering you will bring on yourself,as all my life proves. Yes, yes, it is so," thought Nekhludoff;"it is good; yes, it is good," he repeated, enjoying thefreshness after the torturing heat, and conscious of havingattained to the fullest clearness on a question that had longoccupied him.

CHAPTER XLI.

TARAS'S STORY.

The carriage in which Nekhludoff had taken his place was halffilled with people. There were in it servants, working men,factory hands, butchers, Jews, shopmen, workmen's wives, asoldier, two ladies, a young one and an old one with bracelets onher arm, and a severe-looking gentleman with a cockade on hisblack cap. All these people were sitting quietly; the bustle oftaking their places was long over; some sat cracking and eatingsunflower seeds, some smoking, some talking.

Taras sat, looking very happy, opposite the door, keeping a placefor Nekhludoff, and carrying on an animated conversation with aman in a cloth coat who sat opposite to him, and who was, asNekhludoff afterwards found out, a gardener going to a newsituation. Before reaching the place where Taras sat Nekhludoffstopped between the seats near a reverend-looking old man with awhite beard and nankeen coat, who was talking with a young womanin peasant dress. A little girl of about seven, dressed in a newpeasant costume, sat, her little legs dangling above the floor,by the side of the woman, and kept cracking seeds.

The old man turned round, and, seeing Nekhludoff, he moved thelappets of his coat off the varnished seat next to him, and said,in a friendly manner:

"Please, here's a seat."

Nekhludoff thanked him, and took the seat. As soon as he wasseated the woman continued the interrupted conversation.

She was returning to her village, and related how her husband,whom she had been visiting, had received her in town.

"I was there during the carnival, and now, by the Lord's help,I've been again," she said. "Then, God willing, at Christmas I'llgo again."

"That's right," said the old man, with a look at Nekhludoff,"it's the best way to go and see him, else a young man can easilygo to the bad, living in a town."

"Oh, no, sir, mine is not such a man. No nonsense of any kindabout him; his life is as good as a young maiden's. The money heearns he sends home all to a copeck. And, as to our girl here, hewas so glad to see her, there are no words for it," said thewoman, and smiled.

The little girl, who sat cracking her seeds and spitting out theshells, listened to her mother's words, and, as if to confirmthem, looked up with calm, intelligent eyes into Nekhludoff's andthe old man's faces.

"Well, if he's good, that's better still," said the old man."And none of that sort of thing?" he added, with a look at acouple, evidently factory hands, who sat at the other side of thecarriage. The husband, with his head thrown back, was pouringvodka down his throat out of a bottle, and the wife sat holding abag, out of which they had taken the bottle, and watched himintently.

"No, mine neither drinks nor smokes," said the woman who wasconversing with the old man, glad of the opportunity of praisingher husband once more. "No, sir, the earth does not hold manysuch." And, turning to Nekhludoff, she added, "That's the sortof man he is."

"What could be better," said the old man, looking at the factoryworker, who had had his drink and had passed the bottle to hiswife. The wife laughed, shook her head, and also raised thebottle to her lips.

Noticing Nekhludoff's and the old man's look directed towardsthem, the factory worker addressed the former.

"What is it, sir? That we are drinking? Ah, no one sees how wework, but every one sees how we drink. I have earned it, and I amdrinking and treating my wife, and no one else."

"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, not knowing what to say.

"True, sir. My wife is a steady woman. I am satisfied with mywife, because she can feel for me. Is it right what I'm saying,Mavra?"

"There you are, take it, I don't want any more," said the wife,returning the bottle to him. "And what are you jawing for likethat?" she added.

"There now, she's that good--that good; but let her get her tailover the reins, and you can't think what she'll be up to. . . .Is it right what I'm saying? You must excuse me, sir, I've had adrop! What's to be done?" said the factory worker, and, preparingto go to sleep, put his head in his wife's lap.

Nekhludoff sat a while with the old man, who told him all abouthimself. The old man was a stove builder, who had been workingfor 53 years, and had built so many stoves that he had lostcount, and now he wanted to rest, but had no time. He had been totown and found employment for the young ones, and was now goingto the country to see the people at home. After hearing the oldman's story, Nekhludoff went to the place that Taras was keepingfor him.

"Rather a tight fit, but no matter since we are friends," saidTaras, smiling, and lifting the bag, which weighed more than fivestone, as if it were a feather, he carried it across to thewindow.

"Plenty of room; besides, we might stand up a bit; and even underthe seat it's as comfortable as you could wish. What's the goodof humbugging?" he said, beaming with friendliness and kindness.

Taras spoke of himself as being unable to utter a word when quitesober; but drink, he said, helped him to find the right words,and then he could express everything. And in reality, when he wassober Taras kept silent; but when he had been drinking, whichhappened rarely and only on special occasions, he became verypleasantly talkative. Then he spoke a great deal, spoke well andvery simply and truthfully, and especially with great kindliness,which shone in his gentle, blue eyes and in the friendly smilethat never left his lips. He was in such a state to-day.Nekhludoff's approach interrupted the conversation; but when hehad put the bag in its place, Taras sat down again, and with hisstrong hands folded in his lap, and looking straight into thegardener's face, continued his story. He was telling his newacquaintance about his wife and giving every detail: what she wasbeing sent to Siberia for, and why he was now following her.Nekhludoff had never heard a detailed account of this affair, andso he listened with interest. When he came up, the story hadreached the point when the attempt to poison was already anaccomplished fact, and the family had discovered that it wasTheodosia's doing.

"It's about my troubles that I'm talking," said Taras, addressingNekhludoff with cordial friendliness. "I have chanced to comeacross such a hearty man, and we've got into conversation, andI'm telling him all."

"I see," said Nekhludoff.

"Well, then in this way, my friend, the business became known.Mother, she takes that cake. 'I'm going,' says she, 'to thepolice officer.' My father is a just old man. 'Wait, wife,' sayshe, 'the little woman is a mere child, and did not herself knowwhat she was doing. We must have pity. She may come to hersenses.' But, dear me, mother would not hear of it. 'While wekeep her here,' she says, 'she may destroy us all likecockroaches.' Well, friend, so she goes off for the policeofficer. He bounces in upon us at once. Calls for witnesses."

"Well, and you?" asked the gardener.

"Well, I, you see, friend, roll about with the pain in mystomach, and vomit. All my inside is turned inside out; I can'teven speak. Well, so father he goes and harnesses the mare, andputs Theodosia into the cart, and is off to the police-station,and then to the magistrate's. And she, you know, just as she haddone from the first, so also there, confesses all to themagistrate--where she got the arsenic, and how she kneaded thecake. 'Why did you do it?' says he. 'Why,' says she, 'becausehe's hateful to me. I prefer Siberia to a life with him.' That'sme," and Taras smiled.

"Well, so she confessed all. Then, naturally--the prison, andfather returns alone. And harvest time just coming, and motherthe only woman at home, and she no longer strong. So we thinkwhat we are to do. Could we not bail her out? So father went tosee an official. No go. Then another. I think he went to five ofthem, and we thought of giving it up. Then we happened to comeacross a clerk--such an artful one as you don't often find. 'Yougive me five roubles, and I'll get her out,' says he. He agreedto do it for three. Well, and what do you think, friend? I wentand pawned the linen she herself had woven, and gave him themoney. As soon as he had written that paper," drawled out Taras,just as if he were speaking of a shot being fired, "we succeededat once. I went to fetch her myself. Well, friend, so I got totown, put up the mare, took the paper, and went to the prison.'What do you want?' 'This is what I want,' say I, 'you've got mywife here in prison.' 'And have you got a paper?' I gave him thepaper. He gave it a look. 'Wait,' says he. So I sat down on abench. It was already past noon by the sun. An official comesout. 'You are Vargoushoff?' 'I am.' 'Well, you may take her.' Thegates opened, and they led her out in her own clothes quite allright. 'Well, come along. Have you come on foot?' 'No, I have thehorse here.' So I went and paid the ostler, and harnessed, put inall the hay that was left, and covered it with sacking for her tosit on. She got in and wrapped her shawl round her, and off wedrove. She says nothing and I say nothing. Just as we were comingup to the house she says, 'And how's mother; is she alive?' 'Yes,she's alive.' 'And father; is he alive? 'Yes, he is.' 'Forgiveme, Taras,' she says, 'for my folly. I did not myself know what Iwas doing.' So I say, 'Words won't mend matters. I have forgivenyou long ago,' and I said no more. We got home, and she just fellat mother's feet. Mother says, 'The Lord will forgive you.' Andfather said, 'How d'you do?' and 'What's past is past. Live asbest you can. Now,' says he, 'is not the time for all that;there's the harvest to be gathered in down at Skorodino,' hesays. 'Down on the manured acre, by the Lord's help, the groundhas borne such rye that the sickle can't tackle it. It's allinterwoven and heavy, and has sunk beneath its weight; that mustbe reaped. You and Taras had better go and see to it to-morrow.'Well, friend, from that moment she took to the work and worked sothat every one wondered. At that time we rented three desiatins,and by God's help we had a wonderful crop both of oats and rye. Imow and she binds the sheaves, and sometimes we both of us reap.I am good at work and not afraid of it, but she's better still atwhatever she takes up. She's a smart woman, young, and full oflife; and as to work, friend, she'd grown that eager that I hadto stop her. We get home, our fingers swollen, our arms aching,and she, instead of resting, rushes off to the barn to makebinders for the sheaves for next day. Such a change!"

"Well, and to you? Was she kinder, now?" asked the gardener.

"That's beyond question. She clings to me as if we were one soul.Whatever I think she understands. Even mother, angry as she was,could not help saying: 'It's as if our Theodosia had beentransformed; she's quite a different woman now!' We were oncegoing to cart the sheaves with two carts. She and I were in thefirst, and I say, 'How could you think of doing that, Theodosia?'and she says, 'How could I think of it? just so, I did not wishto live with you. I thought I'd rather die than live with you!' Isay, 'And now?' and she says, 'Now you're in my heart!'" Tarasstopped, and smiled joyfully, shook his head as if surprised."Hardly had we got the harvest home when I went to soak the hemp,and when I got home there was a summons, she must go to be tried,and we had forgotten all about the matter that she was to betried for."

"It can only be the evil one," said the gardener. "Could any manof himself think of destroying a living soul? We had a fellowonce--" and the gardener was about to commence his tale when thetrain began to stop.

"It seems we are coming to a station," he said. "I'll go and havea drink."

The conversation stopped, and Nekhludoff followed the gardenerout of the carriage onto the wet platform of the station.

CHAPTER XLII.

LE VRAI GRAND MONDE.

Before Nekhludoff got out he had noticed in the station yardseveral elegant equipages, some with three, some with four,well-fed horses, with tinkling bells on their harness. When hestepped out on the wet, dark-coloured boards of the platform, hesaw a group of people in front of the first-class carriage, amongwhom were conspicuous a stout lady with costly feathers on herhat, and a waterproof, and a tall, thin-legged young man in acycling suit. The young man had by his side an enormous, well-feddog, with a valuable collar. Behind them stood footmen, holdingwraps and umbrellas, and a coachman, who had also come to meetthe train.

On the whole of the group, from the fat lady down to the coachmanwho stood holding up his long coat, there lay the stamp of wealthand quiet self-assurance. A curious and servile crowd rapidlygathered round this group--the station-master, in his red cap, agendarme, a thin young lady in a Russian costume, with beadsround her neck, who made a point of seeing the trains come in allthrough the summer, a telegraph clerk, and passengers, men andwomen.

In the young man with the dog Nekhludoff recognised youngKorchagin, a gymnasium student. The fat lady was the Princess'ssister, to whose estate the Korchagins were now moving. Theguard, with his gold cord and shiny top-boots, opened the carriagedoor and stood holding it as a sign of deference, while Philipand a porter with a white apron carefully carried out thelong-faced Princess in her folding chair. The sisters greetedeach other, and French sentences began flying about. Would thePrincess go in a closed or an open carriage? At last theprocession started towards the exit, the lady's maid, with hercurly fringe, parasol and leather case in the rear.

Nekhludoff not wishing to meet them and to have to take leaveover again, stopped before he got to the door, waiting for theprocession to pass.

The Princess, her son, Missy, the doctor, and the maid went outfirst, the old Prince and his sister-in-law remained behind.Nekhludoff was too far to catch anything but a few disconnectedFrench sentences of their conversation One of the sentencesuttered by the Prince, as it often happens, for someunaccountable reason remained in his memory with all itsintonations and the sound of the voice.

"_Oh, il est du vrai grand monde, du vrai grand monde_," said thePrince in his loud, self-assured tone as he went out of thestation with his sister-in-law, accompanied by the respectfulguards and porters.

At this moment from behind the corner of the station suddenlyappeared a crowd of workmen in bark shoes, wearing sheepskincoats and carrying bags on their backs. The workmen went up tothe nearest carriage with soft yet determined steps, and wereabout to get in, but were at once driven away by a guard. Withoutstopping, the workmen passed on, hurrying and jostling oneanother, to the next carriage and began getting in, catchingtheir bags against the corners and door of the carriage, butanother guard caught sight of them from the door of the station,and shouted at them severely. The workmen, who had already gotin, hurried out again and went on, with the same soft and firmsteps, still further towards Nekhludoff's carriage. A guard wasagain going to stop them, but Nekhludoff said there was plenty ofroom inside, and that they had better get in. They obeyed and gotin, followed by Nekhludoff.

The workmen were about to take their seats, when the gentlemanwith the cockade and the two ladies, looking at this attempt tosettle in their carriage as a personal insult to themselves,indignantly protested and wanted to turn them out. Theworkmen--there were 20 of them, old men and quite young ones, allof them wearied, sunburnt, with haggard faces--began at once tomove on through the carriage, catching the seats, the walls, andthe doors with their bags. They evidently felt they had offendedin some way, and seemed ready to go on indefinitely wherever theywere ordered to go.

"Where are you pushing to, you fiends? Sit down here," shoutedanother guard they met.

"Voild encore des nouvelles," exclaimed the younger of the twoladies, quite convinced that she would attract Nekhludoff'snotice by her good French.

The other lady with the bracelets kept sniffing and making faces,and remarked something about how pleasant it was to sit withsmelly peasants.

The workmen, who felt the joy and calm experienced by people whohave escaped some kind of danger, threw off their heavy bags witha movement of their shoulders and stowed them away under theseats.

The gardener had left his own seat to talk with Taras, and nowwent back, so that there were two unoccupied seats opposite andone next to Taras. Three of the workmen took these seats, butwhen Nekhludoff came up to them, in his gentleman's clothing,they got so confused that they rose to go away, but Nekhludoffasked them to stay, and himself sat down on the arm of the seat,by the passage down the middle of the carriage.

One of the workmen, a man of about 50, exchanged a surprised andeven frightened look with a young man. That Nekhludoff, insteadof scolding and driving them away, as was natural to a gentleman,should give up his seat to them, astonished and perplexed them.They even feared that this might have some evil result for them.

However, they soon noticed that there was no underlying plot whenthey heard Nekhludoff talking quite simply with Taras, and theygrew quiet and told one of the lads to sit down on his bag andgive his seat to Nekhludoff. At first the elderly workman who satopposite Nekhludoff shrank and drew back his legs for fear oftouching the gentleman, but after a while he grew quite friendly,and in talking to him and Taras even slapped Nekhludoff on theknee when he wanted to draw special attention to what he wassaying.

He told them all about his position and his work in the peatbogs, whence he was now returning home. He had been working therefor two and a half months, and was bringing home his wages, whichonly came to 10 roubles, since part had been paid beforehand whenhe was hired. They worked, as he explained, up to their knees inwater from sunrise to sunset, with two hours' interval fordinner.

"Those who are not used to it find it hard, of course," he said;"but when one's hardened it doesn't matter, if only the food isright. At first the food was bad. Later the people complained,and they got good food, and it was easy to work."

Then he told them how, during 28 years he went out to work, andsent all his earnings home. First to his father, then to hiseldest brother, and now to his nephew, who was at the head of thehousehold. On himself he spent only two or three roubles of the50 or 60 he earned a year, just for luxuries--tobacco andmatches.

"I'm a sinner, when tired I even drink a little vodka sometimes,"he added, with a guilty smile.

Then he told them how the women did the work at home, and how thecontractor had treated them to half a pail of vodka before theystarted to-day, how one of them had died, and another wasreturning home ill. The sick workman he was talking about was ina corner of the same carriage. He was a young lad, with a pale,sallow face and bluish lips. He was evidently tormented byintermittent fever. Nekhludoff went up to him, but the lad lookedup with such a severe and suffering expression that Nekhludoffdid not care to bother him with questions, but advised the elderman to give him quinine, and wrote down the name of the medicine.He wished to give him some money, but the old workman said hewould pay for it himself.

"Well, much as I have travelled, I have never met such agentleman before. Instead of punching your head, he actuallygives up his place to you," said the old man to Taras. "It seemsthere are all sorts of gentlefolk, too."

"Yes, this is quite a new and different world," thoughtNekhludoff, looking at these spare, sinewy, limbs, coarse,home-made garments, and sunburnt, kindly, though weary-lookingfaces, and feeling himself surrounded on all sides with newpeople and the serious interests, joys, and sufferings of a lifeof labour.

"Here is_ le vrai grand monde_," thought Nekhludoff, rememberingthe words of Prince Korchagin and all that idle, luxurious worldto which the Korchagins belonged, with their petty, meaninterests. And he felt the joy of a traveller on discovering anew, unknown, and beautiful world.

END OF BOOK II.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

MASLOVA MAKES NEW FRIENDS.

The gang of prisoners to which Maslova belonged had walked aboutthree thousand three hundred miles. She and the other prisonerscondemned for criminal offences had travelled by rail and bysteamboats as far as the town of Perm. It was only here thatNekhludoff succeeded in obtaining a permission for her tocontinue the journey with the political prisoners, as VeraDoukhova, who was among the latter, advised him to do. Thejourney up to Perm had been very trying to Maslova both morallyand physically. Physically, because of the overcrowding, thedirt, and the disgusting vermin, which gave her no peace;morally, because of the equally disgusting men. The men, like thevermin, though they changed at each halting-place, wereeverywhere alike importunate; they swarmed round her, giving herno rest. Among the women prisoners and the men prisoners, thejailers and the convoy soldiers, the habit of a kind of cynicaldebauch was so firmly established that unless a female prisonerwas willing to utilise her position as a woman she had to beconstantly on the watch. To be continually in a state of fear andstrife was very trying. And Maslova was specially exposed toattacks, her appearance being attractive and her past known toevery one. The decided resistance with which she now met theimportunity of all the men seemed offensive to them, and awakenedanother feeling, that of ill-will towards her. But her positionwas made a little easier by her intimacy with Theodosia, andTheodosia's husband, who, having heard of the molestations hiswife was subject to, had in Nijni been arrested at his own desirein order to be able to protect her, and was now travelling withthe gang as a prisoner. Maslova's position became much morebearable when she was allowed to join the political prisoners,who were provided with better accomodations, better food, andwere treated less rudely, but besides all this Maslova'scondition was much improved because among the political prisonersshe was no longer molested by the men, and could live withoutbeing reminded of that past which she was so anxious to forget.But the chief advantage of the change lay in the fact that shemade the acquaintance of several persons who exercised a decidedand most beneficial influence on her character. Maslova wasallowed to stop with the political prisoners at all thehalting-places, but being a strong and healthy woman she wasobliged to march with the criminal convicts. In this way shewalked all the way from Tomsk. Two political prisoners alsomarched with the gang, Mary Pavlovna Schetinina, the girl withthe hazel eyes who had attracted Nekhludoff's attention when hehad been to visit Doukhova in prison, and one Simonson, who wason his way to the Takoutsk district, the dishevelled dark youngfellow with deep-lying eyes, whom Nekhludoff had also noticedduring that visit. Mary Pavlovna was walking because she hadgiven her place on the cart to one of the criminals, a womanexpecting to be confined, and Simonson because he did not dare toavail himself of a class privilege.

These three always started early in the morning before the restof the political prisoners, who followed later on in the carts.

They were ready to start in this way just outside a large town,where a new convoy officer had taken charge of the gang.

It was early on a dull September morning. It kept raining andsnowing alternately, and the cold wind blew in sudden gusts. Thewhole gang of prisoners, consisting of four hundred men and fiftywomen, was already assembled in the court of the halting station.Some of them were crowding round the chief of the convoy, who wasgiving to specially appointed prisoners money for two days' keepto distribute among the rest, while others were purchasing foodfrom women who had been let into the courtyard. One could hearthe voices of the prisoners counting their money and making theirpurchases, and the shrill voices of the women with the food.

Simonson, in his rubber jacket and rubber overshoes fastened witha string over his worsted stockings (he was a vegetarian andwould not wear the skin of slaughtered animals), was also in thecourtyard waiting for the gang to start. He stood by the porchand jotted down in his notebook a thought that had occurred tohim. This was what he wrote: "If a bacteria watched and examineda human nail it would pronounce it inorganic matter, and thus we,examining our globe and watching its crust, pronounce it to beinorganic. This is incorrect."

Katusha and Mary Pavlovna, both wearing top-boots and with shawlstied round their heads, came out of the building into thecourtyard where the women sat sheltered from the wind by thenorthern wall of the court, and vied with one another, offeringtheir goods, hot meat pie, fish, vermicelli, buckwheat porridge,liver, beef, eggs, milk. One had even a roast pig to offer.

Having bought some eggs, bread, fish, and some rusks, Maslova wasputting them into her bag, while Mary Pavlovna was paying thewomen, when a movement arose among the convicts. All were silentand took their places. The officer came out and began giving thelast orders before starting. Everything was done in the usualmanner. The prisoners were counted, the chains on their legsexamined, and those who were to march in couples linked togetherwith manacles. But suddenly the angry, authoritative voice of theofficer shouting something was heard, also the sound of a blowand the crying of a child. All was silent for a moment and thencame a hollow murmur from the crowd. Maslova and Mary Pavlovnaadvanced towards the spot whence the noise proceeded.

CHAPTER II.

AN INCIDENT OF THE MARCH.

This is what Mary Pavlovna and Katusha saw when they came up tothe scene whence the noise proceeded. The officer, a sturdyfellow, with fair moustaches, stood uttering words of foul andcoarse abuse, and rubbing with his left the palm of his righthand, which he had hurt in hitting a prisoner on the face. Infront of him a thin, tall convict, with half his head shaved anddressed in a cloak too short for him and trousers much too short,stood wiping his bleeding face with one hand, and holding alittle shrieking girl wrapped in a shawl with the other.

"I'll give it you" (foul abuse); "I'll teach you to reason" (moreabuse); "you're to give her to the women!" shouted the officer."Now, then, on with them."

The convict, who was exiled by the Commune, had been carrying hislittle daughter all the way from Tomsk, where his wife had diedof typhus, and now the officer ordered him to be manacled. Theexile's explanation that he could not carry the child if he wasmanacled irritated the officer, who happened to be in a badtemper, and he gave the troublesome prisoner a beating. [A factdescribed by Lineff in his "Transportation".] Before the injuredconvict stood a convoy soldier, and a black-bearded prisoner withmanacles on one hand and a look of gloom on his face, which heturned now to the officer, now to the prisoner with the littlegirl.

The officer repeated his orders for the soldiers to take away thegirl. The murmur among the prisoners grew louder.

"All the way from Tomsk they were not put on," came a hoarsevoice from some one in the rear. "It's a child, and not a puppy."

"What's he to do with the lassie? That's not the law," said someone else.

"Who's that?" shouted the officer as if he had been stung, andrushed into the crowd.

"I'll teach you the law. Who spoke. You? You?"

"Everybody says so, because-" said a short, broad-faced prisoner.

Before he had finished speaking the officer hit him in the face.

"Mutiny, is it? I'll show you what mutiny means. I'll have youall shot like dogs, and the authorities will be only toothankful. Take the girl."

The crowd was silent. One convoy soldier pulled away the girl,who was screaming desperately, while another manacled theprisoner, who now submissively held out his hand.

"Take her to the women," shouted the officer, arranging his swordbelt.

The little girl, whose face had grown quite red, was trying todisengage her arms from under the shawl, and screamedunceasingly. Mary Pavlovna stepped out from among the crowd andcame up to the officer.

"Will you allow me to carry the little girl?" she said.

"Who are you?" asked the officer.

"A political prisoner."

Mary Pavlovna's handsome face, with the beautiful prominent eyes(he had noticed her before when the prisoners were given into hischarge), evidently produced an effect on the officer. He lookedat her in silence as if considering, then said: "I don't care;carry her if you like. It is easy for you to show pity; if he ranaway who would have to answer?"

"How could he run away with the child in his arms?" said MaryPavlovna.

"I have no time to talk with you. Take her if you like."

"Shall I give her?" asked the soldier.

"Yes, give her."

"Come to me," said Mary Pavlovna, trying to coax the child tocome to her.

But the child in the soldier's arms stretched herself towards herfather and continued to scream, and would not go to MaryPavlovna.

"Wait a bit, Mary Pavlovna," said Maslova, getting a rusk out ofher bag; "she will come to me."

The little girl knew Maslova, and when she saw her face and therusk she let her take her. All was quiet. The gates were opened,and the gang stepped out, the convoy counted the prisoners overagain, the bags were packed and tied on to the carts, the weakseated on the top. Maslova with the child in her arms took herplace among the women next to Theodosia. Simonson, who had allthe time been watching what was going on, stepped with large,determined strides up to the officer, who, having given hisorders, was just getting into a trap, and said, "You have behavedbadly."

"Get to your place; it is no business of yours."

"It is my business to tell you that you have behaved badly and Ihave said it," said Simonson, looking intently into the officer'sface from under his bushy eyebrows.

"Ready? March!" the officer called out, paying no heed toSimonson, and, taking hold of the driver's shoulder, he got intothe trap. The gang started and spread out as it stepped on to themuddy high road with ditches on each side, which passed through adense forest.

CHAPTER III.

MARY PAVLOVNA.

In spite of the hard conditions in which they were placed, lifeamong the political prisoners seemed very good to Katusha afterthe depraved, luxurious and effeminate life she had led in townfor the last six years, and after two months' imprisonment withcriminal prisoners. The fifteen to twenty miles they did per day,with one day's rest after two days' marching, strengthened herphysically, and the fellowship with her new companions opened outto her a life full of interests such as she had never dreamed of.People so wonderful (as she expressed it) as those whom she wasnow going with she had not only never met but could not even haveimagined.

"There now, and I cried when I was sentenced," she said. "Why, Imust thank God for it all the days of my life. I have learned toknow what I never should have found out else."

The motives she understood easily and without effort that guidedthese people, and, being of the people, fully sympathised withthem. She understood that these persons were for the people andagainst the upper classes, and though themselves belonging to theupper classes had sacrificed their privileges, their liberty andtheir lives for the people. This especially made her value andadmire them. She was charmed with all the new companions, butparticularly with Mary Pavlovna, and she was not only charmedwith her, but loved her with a peculiar, respectful and rapturouslove. She was struck by the fact that this beautiful girl, thedaughter of a rich general, who could speak three languages, gaveaway all that her rich brother sent her, and lived like thesimplest working girl, and dressed not only simply, but poorly,paying no heed to her appearance. This trait and a completeabsence of coquetry was particularly surprising and thereforeattractive to Maslova. Maslova could see that Mary Pavlovna knew,and was even pleased to know, that she was handsome, and yet theeffect her appearance had on men was not at all pleasing to her;she was even afraid of it, and felt an absolute disgust to alllove affairs. Her men companions knew it, and if they feltattracted by her never permitted themselves to show it to her,but treated her as they would a man; but with strangers, whooften molested her, the great physical strength on which sheprided herself stood her in good stead.

"It happened once," she said to Katusha, "that a man followed mein the street and would not leave me on any account. At last Igave him such a shaking that he was frightened and ran away."

She became a revolutionary, as she said, because she felt adislike to the life of the well-to-do from childhood up, andloved the life of the common people, and she was always beingscolded for spending her time in the servants' hall, in thekitchen or the stables instead of the drawing-room.

"And I found it amusing to be with cooks and the coachmen, anddull with our gentlemen and ladies," she said. "Then when I cameto understand things I saw that our life was altogether wrong; Ihad no mother and I did not care for my father, and so when I wasnineteen I left home, and went with a girl friend to work as afactory hand."

After she left the factory she lived in the country, thenreturned to town and lived in a lodging, where they had a secretprinting press. There she was arrested and sentenced to hardlabour. Mary Pavlovna said nothing about it herself, but Katushaheard from others that Mary Pavlovna was sentenced because, whenthe lodging was searched by the police and one of therevolutionists fired a shot in the dark, she pleaded guilty.

As soon as she had learned to know Mary Pavlovna, Katusha noticedthat, whatever the conditions she found herself in, Mary Pavlovnanever thought of herself, but was always anxious to serve, tohelp some one, in matters small or great. One of her presentcompanions, Novodvoroff, said of her that she devoted herself tophilanthropic amusements. And this was true. The interest of herwhole life lay in the search for opportunities of serving others.This kind of amusement had become the habit, the business of herlife. And she did it all so naturally that those who knew her nolonger valued but simply expected it of her.

When Maslova first came among them, Mary Pavlovna felt repulsedand disgusted. Katusha noticed this, but she also noticed that,having made an effort to overcome these feelings, Mary Pavlovnabecame particularly tender and kind to her. The tenderness andkindness of so uncommon a being touched Maslova so much that shegave her whole heart, and unconsciously accepting her views,could not help imitating her in everything.

This devoted love of Katusha touched Mary Pavlovna in her turn,and she learned to love Katusha.

These women were also united by the repulsion they both felt tosexual love. The one loathed that kind of love, havingexperienced all its horrors, the other, never having experiencedit, looked on it as something incomprehensible and at the sametime as something repugnant and offensive to human dignity.

Everybody lives and acts partly according to his own, partlyaccording to other people's, ideas. This is what constitutes oneof the great differences among men. To some, thinking is a kindof mental game; they treat their reason as if it were a fly-wheelwithout a connecting strap, and are guided in their actions byother people's ideas, by custom or laws; while others look upontheir own ideas as the chief motive power of all their actions,and always listen to the dictates of their own reason and submitto it, accepting other people's opinions only on rare occasionsand after weighing them critically. Simonson was a man of thelatter sort; he settled and verified everything according to hisown reason and acted on the decisions he arrived at. When aschoolboy he made up his mind that his father's income, made as apaymaster in government office was dishonestly gained, and hetold his father that it ought to be given to the people. When hisfather, instead of listening to him, gave him a scolding, he lefthis father's house and would not make use of his father's means.Having come to the conclusion that all the existing misery was aresult of the people's ignorance, he joined the socialists, whocarried on propaganda among the people, as soon as he left theuniversity and got a place as a village schoolmaster. He taughtand explained to his pupils and to the peasants what heconsidered to be just, and openly blamed what he thought unjust.He was arrested and tried. During his trial he determined to tellhis judges that his was a just cause, for which he ought not tobe tried or punished. When the judges paid no heed to his words,but went on with the trial, he decided not to answer them andkept resolutely silent when they questioned him. He was exiled tothe Government of Archangel. There he formulated a religiousteaching which was founded on the theory that everything in theworld was alive, that nothing is lifeless, and that all theobjects we consider to be without life or inorganic are onlyparts of an enormous organic body which we cannot compass. Aman's task is to sustain the life of that huge organism and allits animate parts. Therefore he was against war, capitalpunishment and every kind of killing, not only of human beings,but also of animals. Concerning marriage, too, he had a peculiaridea of his own; he thought that increase was a lower function ofman, the highest function being to serve the already existinglives. He found a confirmation of his theory in the fact thatthere were phacocytes in the blood. Celibates, according to hisopinion, were the same as phacocytes, their function being tohelp the weak and the sickly particles of the organism. From themoment he came to this conclusion he began to consider himself aswell as Mary Pavlovna as phacocytes, and to live accordingly,though as a youth he had been addicted to vice. His love forKatusha did not infringe this conception, because he loved herplatonically, and such love he considered could not hinder hisactivity as a phacocytes, but acted, on the contrary, as aninspiration.

Not only moral, but also most practical questions he decided inhis own way. He applied a theory of his own to all practicalbusiness, had rules relating to the number of hours for rest andfor work, to the kind of food to eat, the way to dress, to heatand light up the rooms. With all this Simonson was very shy andmodest; and yet when he had once made up his mind nothing couldmake him waver. And this man had a decided influence on Maslovathrough his love for her. With a woman's instinct Maslova verysoon found out that he loved her. And the fact that she couldawaken love in a man of that kind raised her in her ownestimation. It was Nekhludoff's magnanimity and what had been inthe past that made him offer to marry her, but Simonson loved hersuch as she was now, loved her simply because of the love he boreher. And she felt that Simonson considered her to be anexceptional woman, having peculiarly high moral qualities. Shedid not quite know what the qualities he attributed to her were,but in order to be on the safe side and that he should not bedisappointed in her, she tried with all her might to awaken inherself all the highest qualities she could conceive, and shetried to be as good as possible. This had begun while they werestill in prison, when on a common visiting day she had noticedhis kindly dark blue eyes gazing fixedly at her from under hisprojecting brow. Even then she had noticed that this was apeculiar man, and that he was looking at her in a peculiarmanner, and had also noticed the striking combination ofsternness--the unruly hair and the frowning forehead gave himthis appearance--with the child-like kindness and innocence ofhis look. She saw him again in Tomsk, where she joined thepolitical prisoners. Though they had not uttered a word, theirlooks told plainly that they had understood one another. Evenafter that they had had no serious conversation with each other,but Maslova felt that when he spoke in her presence his wordswere addressed to her, and that he spoke for her sake, trying toexpress himself as plainly as he could; but it was when hestarted walking with the criminal prisoners that they grewspecially near to one another.

CHAPTER V.

THE POLITICAL PRISONERS.

Until they left Perm Nekhludoff only twice managed to seeKatusha, once in Nijni, before the prisoners were embarked on abarge surrounded with a wire netting, and again in Perm in theprison office. At both these interviews he found her reserved andunkind. She answered his questions as to whether she was in wantof anything, and whether she was comfortable, evasively andbashfully, and, as he thought, with the same feeling of hostilereproach which she had shown several times before. Her depressedstate of mind, which was only the result of the molestations fromthe men that she was undergoing at the time, tormentedNekhludoff. He feared lest, influenced by the hard and degradingcircumstances in which she was placed on the journey, she shouldagain get into that state of despair and discord with her ownself which formerly made her irritable with him, and which hadcaused her to drink and smoke excessively to gain oblivion. Buthe was unable to help her in any way during this part of thejourney, as it was impossible for him to be with her. It was onlywhen she joined the political prisoners that he saw how unfoundedhis fears were, and at each interview he noticed that innerchange he so strongly desired to see in her becoming more andmore marked. The first time they met in Tomsk she was again justas she had been when leaving Moscow. She did not frown or becomeconfused when she saw him, but met him joyfully and simply,thanking him for what he had done for her, especially forbringing her among the people with whom she now was.

After two months' marching with the gang, the change that hadtaken place within her became noticeable in her appearance. Shegrew sunburned and thinner, and seemed older; wrinkles appearedon her temples and round her mouth. She had no ringlets on herforehead now, and her hair was covered with the kerchief; in theway it was arranged, as well as in her dress and her manners,there was no trace of coquetry left. And this change, which hadtaken place and was still progressing in her, made Nekhludoffvery happy.

He felt for her something he had never experienced before. Thisfeeling had nothing in common with his first poetic love for her,and even less with the sensual love that had followed, nor evenwith the satisfaction of a duty fulfilled, not unmixed withself-admiration, with which he decided to marry her after thetrial. The present feeling was simply one of pity and tenderness.He had felt it when he met her in prison for the first time, andthen again when, after conquering his repugnance, he forgave herthe imagined intrigue with the medical assistant in the hospital(the injustice done her had since been discovered); it was thesame feeling he now had, only with this difference, that formerlyit was momentary, and that now it had become permanent. Whateverhe was doing, whatever he was thinking now, a feeling of pity andtenderness dwelt with him, and not only pity and tenderness forher, but for everybody. This feeling seemed to have opened thefloodgates of love, which had found no outlet in Nekhludoff'ssoul, and the love now flowed out to every one he met.

During this journey Nekhludoff's feelings were so stimulated thathe could not help being attentive and considerate to everybody,from the coachman and the convoy soldiers to the prisoninspectors and governors whom he had to deal with. Now thatMaslova was among the political prisoners, Nekhludoff could nothelp becoming acquainted with many of them, first inEkaterinburg, where they had a good deal of freedom and were keptaltogether in a large cell, and then on the road when Maslova wasmarching with three of the men and four of the women. Coming incontact with political exiles in this way made Nekhludoffcompletely change his mind concerning them.

From the very beginning of the revolutionary movement in Russia,but especially since that first of March, when Alexander II wasmurdered, Nekhludoff regarded the revolutionists with dislike andcontempt. He was repulsed by the cruelty and secrecy of themethods they employed in their struggles against the government,especially the cruel murders they committed, and their arrogancealso disgusted him. But having learned more intimately to knowthem and all they had suffered at the hands of the government, hesaw that they could not be other than they were.

Terrible and endless as were the torments which were inflicted onthe criminals, there was at least some semblance of justice shownthem before and after they were sentenced, but in the case of thepolitical prisoners there was not even that semblance, asNekhludoff saw in the case of Sholostova and that of many andmany of his new acquaintances. These people were dealt with likefish caught with a net; everything that gets into the nets ispulled ashore, and then the big fish which are required aresorted out and the little ones are left to perish unheeded on theshore. Having captured hundreds that were evidently guiltless,and that could not be dangerous to the government, they left themimprisoned for years, where they became consumptive, went out oftheir minds or committed suicide, and kept them only because theyhad no inducement to set them free, while they might be of use toelucidate some question at a judicial inquiry, safe in prison.The fate of these persons, often innocent even from thegovernment point of view, depended on the whim, the humour of, orthe amount of leisure at the disposal of some police officer orspy, or public prosecutor, or magistrate, or governor, orminister. Some one of these officials feels dull, or inclined todistinguish himself, and makes a number of arrests, and imprisonsor sets free, according to his own fancy or that of the higherauthorities. And the higher official, actuated by like motives,according to whether he is inclined to distinguish himself, or towhat his relations to the minister are, exiles men to the otherside of the world or keeps them in solitary confinement, condemnsthem to Siberia, to hard labour, to death, or sets them free atthe request of some lady.

They were dealt with as in war, and they naturally employed themeans that were used against them. And as the military men livein an atmosphere of public opinion that not only conceals fromthem the guilt of their actions, but sets these actions up asfeats of heroism, so these political offenders were alsoconstantly surrounded by an atmosphere of public opinion whichmade the cruel actions they committed, in the face of danger andat the risk of liberty and life, and all that is dear to men,seem not wicked but glorious actions. Nekhludoff found in thisthe explanation of the surprising phenomenon that men, with themildest characters, who seemed incapable of witnessing thesufferings of any living creature, much less of inflicting pain,quietly prepared to murder men, nearly all of them consideringmurder lawful and just on certain occasions as a means forself-defence, for the attainment of higher aims or for thegeneral welfare.

The importance they attribute to their cause, and consequently tothemselves, flowed naturally from the importance the governmentattached to their actions, and the cruelty of the punishments itinflicted on them. When Nekhludoff came to know them better hebecame convinced that they were not the right-down villains thatsome imagined them to be, nor the complete heroes that othersthought them, but ordinary people, just the same as others, amongwhom there were some good and some bad, and some mediocre, asthere are everywhere.

There were some among them who had turned revolutionists becausethey honestly considered it their duty to fight the existingevils, but there were also those who chose this work for selfish,ambitious motives; the majority, however, was attracted to therevolutionary idea by the desire for danger, for risks, theenjoyment of playing with one's life, which, as Nekhludoff knewfrom his military experiences, is quite common to the mostordinary people while they are young and full of energy. Butwherein they differed from ordinary people was that their moralstandard was a higher one than that of ordinary men. Theyconsidered not only self-control, hard living, truthfulness, butalso the readiness to sacrifice everything, even life, for thecommon welfare as their duty. Therefore the best among them stoodon a moral level that is not often reached, while the worst werefar below the ordinary level, many of them being untruthful,hypocritical and at the same time self-satisfied and proud. Sothat Nekhludoff learned not only to respect but to love some ofhis new acquaintances, while he remained more than indifferent toothers.

CHAPTER VI.

KRYLTZOFF'S STORY.

Nekhludoff grew especially fond of Kryltzoff, a consumptive youngman condemned to hard labour, who was going with the same gang asKatusha. Nekhludoff had made his acquaintance already inEkaterinburg, and talked with him several times on the road afterthat. Once, in summer, Nekhludoff spent nearly the whole of a daywith him at a halting station, and Kryltzoff, having once startedtalking, told him his story and how he had become arevolutionist. Up to the time of his imprisonment his story wassoon told. He lost his father, a rich landed proprietor in thesouth of Russia, when still a child. He was the only son, and hismother brought him up. He learned easily in the university, aswell as the gymnasium, and was first in the mathematical facultyin his year. He was offered a choice of remaining in theuniversity or going abroad. He hesitated. He loved a girl and wasthinking of marriage, and taking part in the ruraladministration. He did not like giving up either offer, and couldnot make up his mind. At this time his fellow-students at theuniversity asked him for money for a common cause. He did notknow that this common cause was revolutionary, which he was notinterested in at that time, but gave the money from a sense ofcomradeship and vanity, so that it should not be said that he wasafraid. Those who received the money were caught, a note wasfound which proved that the money had been given by Kryltzoff. hewas arrested, and first kept at the police station, thenimprisoned.

"The prison where I was put," Kryltzoff went on to relate (he wassitting on the high shelf bedstead, his elbows on his knees, withsunken chest, the beautiful, intelligent eyes with which helooked at Nekhludoff glistening feverishly)--"they were notspecially strict in that prison. We managed to converse, not onlyby tapping the wall, but could walk about the corridors, shareour provisions and our tobacco, and in the evenings we even sangin chorus. I had a fine voice--yes, if it had not been for motherit would have been all right, even pleasant and interesting. HereI made the acquaintance of the famous Petroff--he afterwardskilled himself with a piece of glass at the fortress--and alsoof others. But I was not yet a revolutionary. I also becameacquainted with my neighbours in the cells next to mine. Theywere both caught with Polish proclamations and arrested in thesame cause, and were tried for an attempt to escape from theconvoy when they were being taken to the railway station. One wasa Pole, Lozinsky; the other a Jew, Rozovsky. Yes. Well, thisRozovsky was quite a boy. He said he was seventeen, but he lookedfifteen--thin, small, active, with black, sparkling eyes, and,like most Jews, very musical. His voice was still breaking, andyet he sang beautifully. Yes. I saw them both taken to be tried.They were taken in the morning. They returned in the evening,and said they were condemned to death. No one had expected it.Their case was so unimportant; they only tried to get away fromthe convoy, and had not even wounded any one. And then it was sounnatural to execute such a child as Rozovsky. And we in prisonall came to the conclusion that it was only done to frightenthem, and would not be confirmed. At first we were excited, andthen we comforted ourselves, and life went on as before. Yes.Well, one evening, a watchman comes to my door and mysteriouslyannounces to me that carpenters had arrived, and were putting upthe gallows. At first I did not understand. What's that? Whatgallows? But the watchman was so excited that I saw at once itwas for our two. I wished to tap and communicate with mycomrades, but was afraid those two would hear. The comrades werealso silent. Evidently everybody knew. In the corridors and inthe cells everything was as still as death all that evening. Theydid not tap the wall nor sing. At ten the watchman came again andannounced that a hangman had arrived from Moscow. He said it andwent away. I began calling him back. Suddenly I hear Rozovskyshouting to me across the corridor: 'What's the matter? Why doyou call him?' I answered something about asking him to get mesome tobacco, but he seemed to guess, and asked me: 'Why did wenot sing to-night, why did we not tap the walls?' I do notremember what I said, but I went away so as not to speak to him.Yes. It was a terrible night. I listened to every sound allnight. Suddenly, towards morning, I hear doors opening andsomebody walking--many persons. I went up to my window. Therewas a lamp burning in the corridor. The first to pass was theinspector. He was stout, and seemed a resolute, self-satisfiedman, but he looked ghastly pale, downcast, and seemed frightened;then his assistant, frowning but resolute; behind them thewatchman. They passed my door and stopped at the next, and I hearthe assistant calling out in a strange voice: 'Lozinsky, get upand put on clean linen.' Yes. Then I hear the creaking of thedoor; they entered into his cell. Then I hear Lozinsky's stepsgoing to the opposite side of the corridor. I could only see theinspector. He stood quite pale, and buttoned and unbuttoned hiscoat, shrugging his shoulders. Yes. Then, as if frightened ofsomething, he moved out of the way. It was Lozinsky, who passedhim and came up to my door. A handsome young fellow he was, youknow, of that nice Polish type: broad shouldered, his headcovered with fine, fair, curly hair as with a cap, and withbeautiful blue eyes. So blooming, so fresh, so healthy. Hestopped in front of my window, so that I could see the whole ofhis face. A dreadful, gaunt, livid face. 'Kryltzoff, have you anycigarettes?' I wished to pass him some, but the assistanthurriedly pulled out his cigarette case and passed it to him. Hetook out one, the assistant struck a match, and he lit thecigarette and began to smoke and seemed to be thinking. Then, asif he had remembered something, he began to speak. 'It is crueland unjust. I have committed no crime. I--' I saw somethingquiver in his white young throat, from which I could not take myeyes, and he stopped. Yes. At that moment I hear Rozovskyshouting in his fine, Jewish voice. Lozinsky threw away thecigarette and stepped from the door. And Rozovsky appeared at thewindow. His childish face, with the limpid black eyes, was redand moist. He also had clean linen on, the trousers were toowide, and he kept pulling them up and trembled all over. Heapproached his pitiful face to my window. 'Kryltzoff, it's truethat the doctor has prescribed cough mixture for me, is it not? Iam not well. I'll take some more of the mixture.' No oneanswered, and he looked inquiringly, now at me, now at theinspector. What he meant to say I never made out. Yes. Suddenlythe assistant again put on a stern expression, and called out ina kind of squeaking tone: 'Now, then, no nonsense. Let us go.'Rozovsky seemed incapable of understanding what awaited him, andhurried, almost ran, in front of him all along the corridor. Butthen he drew back, and I could hear his shrill voice and hiscries, then the trampling of feet, and general hubbub. He wasshrieking and sobbing. The sounds came fainter and fainter, andat last the door rattled and all was quiet. Yes. And so theyhanged them. Throttled them both with a rope. A watchman, anotherone, saw it done, and told me that Lozinsky did not resist, butRozovsky struggled for a long time, so that they had to pull himup on to the scaffold and to force his head into the noose. Yes.This watchman was a stupid fellow. He said: 'They told me, sir,that it would be frightful, but it was not at all frightful.After they were hanged they only shrugged their shoulders twice,like this.' He showed how the shoulders convulsively rose andfell. 'Then the hangman pulled a bit so as to tighten the noose,and it was all up, and they never budged."' And Kryltzoffrepeated the watchman's words, "Not at all frightful," and triedto smile, but burst into sobs instead.

For a long time after that he kept silent, breathing heavily, andrepressing the sobs that were choking him.

"From that time I became a revolutionist. Yes," he said, when hewas quieter and finished his story in a few words. He belonged tothe Narodovoltzy party, and was even at the head of thedisorganising group, whose object was to terrorise the governmentso that it should give up its power of its own accord. With thisobject he travelled to Petersburg, to Kiev, to Odessa and abroad,and was everywhere successful. A man in whom he had fullconfidence betrayed him. He was arrested, tried, kept in prisonfor two years, and condemned to death, but the sentence wasmitigated to one of hard labour for life.

He went into consumption while in prison, and in the conditionshe was now placed he had scarcely more than a few months longerto live. This he knew, but did not repent of his action, but saidthat if he had another life he would use it in the same way todestroy the conditions in which such things as he had seen werepossible.

This man's story and his intimacy with him explained toNekhludoff much that he had not previously understood.

CHAPTER VII.

NEKHLUDOFF SEEKS AN INTERVIEW WITH MASLOVA.

On the day when the convoy officer had the encounter with theprisoners at the halting station about the child, Nekhludoff, whohad spent the night at the village inn, woke up late, and wassome time writing letters to post at the next Government town, sothat he left the inn later than usual, and did not catch up withthe gang on the road as he had done previously, but came to thevillage where the next halting station was as it was growingdusk.

Having dried himself at the inn, which was kept by an elderlywoman who had an extraordinarily fat, white neck, he had his teain a clean room decorated with a great number of icons andpictures and then hurried away to the halting station to ask theofficer for an interview with Katusha. At the last six haltingstations he could not get the permission for an interview fromany of the officers. Though they had been changed several times,not one of them would allow Nekhludoff inside the haltingstations, so that he had not seen Katusha for more than a week.This strictness was occasioned by the fact that an importantprison official was expected to pass that way. Now this officialhad passed without looking in at the gang, after all, andNekhludoff hoped that the officer who had taken charge of thegang in the morning would allow him an interview with theprisoners, as former officers had done.

The landlady offered Nekhludoff a trap to drive him to thehalting station, situated at the farther end of the village, butNekhludoff preferred to walk. A young labourer, abroad-shouldered young fellow of herculean dimensions, withenormous top-boots freshly blackened with strongly smelling tar,offered himself as a guide.

A dense mist obscured the sky, and it was so dark that when theyoung fellow was three steps in advance of him Nekhludoff couldnot see him unless the light of some window happened to fall onthe spot, but he could hear the heavy boots wading through thedeep, sticky slush. After passing the open place in front of thechurch and the long street, with its rows of windows shiningbrightly in the darkness, Nekhludoff followed his guide to theoutskirts of the village, where it was pitch dark. But soon here,